


And If I Was Yours

by alasse



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alasse/pseuds/alasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard only ever saw Frank as his little brother's best friend, right? But Frank's had a crush on him forever and ever. And when Gerard tells his cheating asshat ex that he is better off without him and he already has a date for Gabe Saporta’s semi-annual Not-Birthday Party, thank you, which is totally a lie, Frank steps up to the plate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And If I Was Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **pennyplainknits** 's prompt on the [bandom pretend dating festival](http://pennyplainknits.livejournal.com/306125.html)

“Hey, Gerard.”

Gerard paused while rummaging around in his locker. Great. Bert McCracken. Just what he needed. It was 8 am and his day was already ruined.

“Hey, Bert,” he finally replied with a sigh, extracting one of his sketchbooks and what he thought was his History notebook. It had a Napoleon zombie on the cover, so it was a definite possibility.

“So, uh, are you going to Gabe’s party?” Bert asked, while trying to insinuate himself into the space between Gerard and his locker. 

“Yep.”

“Really?” Bert sounded surprised. 

What, did he expect Gerard to stay home and cry in the basement every weekend just because he’d caught Jepha giving Bert a blowjob in the darkroom last week? Like, whatever, Gerard didn’t really go to parties, but Gabe was a friend and he was going with Mikey and Ray and Frank if he could make it, and cheating assholes wouldn’t stop him, okay? Plus, if he didn’t go Gabe would whine for ages about how Gerard didn’t respect his choice to celebrate two not-birthdays rather than one birthday and how that was “totally crushing my soul, dearest elder Way.” It wasn’t worth the hassle to miss it.

“Yeah, really. I always go to Gabe’s parties,” Gerard replied.

“You mean Mikey always makes you go to Gabe’s parties,” Bert said knowingly. Ugh. Superior-sounding little fucker. “So, wanna go together? Gabe’s basement has a really nice couch,” he continued, waggling his eyebrows in what he probably thought was a sexy way. 

And, what? Seriously?

Gerard looked up from fiddling with his messenger bag, mouth open in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? No, I don’t want to go with you!”

Bert looked honestly confused. “But we always go to parties together. And then you blow me somewhere.”

“Uh, yeah, but that was before I caught you and Jepha in the darkroom. I don’t blow cheating asshats, okay, I have standards.”

“What? Cheating…” Bert was frowning in that way he did when what was happening in his head didn’t match up to what was actually happening. He frowned a lot. “Ger-tard, it’s not like we were exclusive. I mean - did you think we were?” he asked, and when he saw the expression on Gerard’s face, his frown turned into this mocking, cruel smile. “You did! Man, why would I even want to? You’re, like, a total loser. I mean, you give good head, but that’s about it.”

Gerard wanted to do several things at once. He wanted to run away, and he wanted to cry, and he wanted to punch Bert only that would probably be a very bad idea because Gerard didn’t like violence and he’d hurt his hand and then he wouldn’t be able to draw. But instead of doing any of that, Gerard said the first thing that popped into his head.

“Well, I didn’t want to be exclusive with you either, because you don’t even give good head. In fact, I’m already going out with someone else and we _are_ exclusive.”

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, what was he doing?

“Oh, really?” Bert looked skeptical. 

Gerard didn’t blame him - Gerard wasn’t exactly known for being a social butterfly. But in for a penny...

“Yes, really. He’s amazing, actually.”

“Well. I can’t wait to meet him at Gabe’s party then. I mean, if he actually exists,” was Bert’s final parting shot, before he finally unstuck himself from Gerard’s locker and walked away.

Fuck. Gerard was so fucking screwed.

+

“Oh my god, Mikey, I am so fucking screwed,” Gerard wailed, as he sat down between his brother and Ray.

They were safely ensconced in the corner of the school grounds they’d scoped out ages ago as being strategically far away enough from the jocks and the teachers so they wouldn’t get hassled by the former for existing and by the latter for smoking, but close enough to still be within bounds, so Gerard felt safe in explaining the full extent of how his life was _ruined forever_.

Mikey raised his eyebrows.

“I told Bert I had a date for Gabe’s party,” Gerard explained.

Mikey’s left eyebrow twitched a little.

“No, I can’t just show up solo and then grab someone there! He’ll _know_!” Gerard told him. 

Ray just looked between them for a second, but then he shrugged, having given up on understanding the intricacies of Way-speak a while ago. It was a wise choice, Gerard felt. 

“So, uh, why did you tell Bert you had a date, anyway?” Ray asked. “I thought you weren’t talking to him anymore after the Jepha thing.”

“I wasn’t, but he showed up at my locker and he acted like everything was fine and then he told me that he’d been cheating on me the whole time because we weren’t exclusive,” Gerard replied, some of the misery he’d felt at Bert’s words breaking through his strict ‘not feeling bad over fucking Bert McCracken’ filter.

Mikey shifted closer and put his head on Gerard’s shoulder, and Ray’s hair drooped a little. Gerard loved them so much.

“Why are you motherfuckers pouting?”

Gerard jumped, startled by Frank’s sudden appearance. He shrugged, not in the mood to explain what a loser he was all over again, and to _Frank_ of all people.

After a couple seconds of pointed silence, and Frank nudging Mikey with his foot insistently, Ray finally bit the bullet. “Gerard ran into Bert today and found out that Bert had cheated on him all along, not just last week, so to prove how over him he was, he told him he had a date for Gabe’s party,” he summarized. 

“So?”

“So Gerard doesn’t have a date?”

“Sure he does,” Frank replied. “I’ll go with him.”

Gerard stared at Frank. “But, uh, I mean. Seriously? I - well, I sort of implied I was seeing someone exclusively. Like, not just a one-time date kind of thing.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be the best fake boyfriend ever,” Frank said, fidgeting in badly-suppressed excitement. “Seriously, Gee, it’ll be awesome! We’ll show Bert just what he’s missing.”

“Well. I mean. Thank you, Frankie. But only if you’re sure?”

Frank sat down in front of Gerard, and looked at him earnestly. “I am one-hundred percent sure, Gee Way.”

Gerard gave Frank a grateful smile, and Ray’s hair looked a bit perkier. Mikey seemed a bit unsure, but when Gerard quirked an eyebrow, Mikey just shook his head slightly. Well. Maybe he’d tell Gerard later.

“Okay, Frankie. It’s on.”

+

Later that night, Mikey was hanging out in the basement, watching a re-run of _The Princess Bride_ while Gerard sketched in lieu of getting started on his Math homework. Whatever - he’d ask Ray for some help tomorrow.

He was trying to properly shade the expression on Buttercup’s face as she told Westley that she didn’t care he was a flesh-eating vampire, but it wasn’t going quite right. There was something bugging him from earlier today.

“Hey, Mikes?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you - are you okay with the whole Frank plan? The fake dating? Because - because if it bugs you we won’t do it,” Gerard told him. He would rather take all the mockery and all the Berts in the world before hurting Mikey in any way.

Mikey was quiet for a beat, and then he shrugged. “I think you’re both idiots. But I’m okay with it, Gee, don’t worry.”

Gerard knew that there was still something Mikey wasn’t telling him, but he trusted Mikey would tell him if it was really important. 

“Okay. Hey, do you think Vizzini should be a ghoul or an evil wizard?”

“Evil wizard. Duh.”

+

The next day, Gerard found out exactly what it meant to go out with “the best fake boyfriend ever.” He was dragging himself to his locker, more-or-less lost in a daydream about a world where the water in every water fountain was replaced by hot, delicious coffee, so he didn’t actually notice Frank until he ran smack into him.

“Mornin’ Gee! I got some coffee for you.”

Gerard blinked. Nope, Frank was still there. Looking far too perky for eight in the morning and holding a cup of hot, delicious coffee. 

“Um. Morning, Frank. Thank you - you didn’t have to do that,” Gerard finally replied.

“Sure I did! I’m your fake boyfriend. You take it with a shitton of sugar and cream, right?” Frank asked, holding out the styrofoam cup.

Gerard took it on instinct, and he was sipping the life-giving elixir before he could think about it too much. He couldn’t hold back a moan of pleasure at the first taste, and Frank looked entirely too pleased about it. 

“Now get your shit out of your locker and give it to me.”

“… what?” Gerard asked, totally confused. Was Frank practicing how to rob people? I mean. Frankie was a badass, but he wouldn’t do that, right?

Frank gave him this _look_ , like Gerard was being deliberately obtuse. “I’m your fake boyfriend, Gee. I need to carry your books.”

“Frankie!” Gerard exclaimed, appalled. “You know, perpetuating gender stereotypes like that is the reason why girls like Anna Johnson still think they have to dress in a tiny skirt and pretend their hand will break if they have to carry something heavier than a pencil. Just because you’re my fake boyfriend doesn’t mean I’m suddenly incapable of carrying my own shit.”

“Gee. I want to carry your books because you always trip down the stairs on your way to Bio. You told us two days ago that you’ve already lost like three pens to the evil steps,” Frank said, giving him this small, fond smile that made Gerard feel a little short of breath.

“Oh. Um. Okay, then,” Gerard said, opening his locker and rummaging around for what he thought was his bio notebook, looking at the drawings he’d sharpied on the covers. Demon petri dish? Good enough. A sudden thought struck him, and he turned to Frank again. “But, wait - won’t you be late to your own class, Frankie? I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

Frank waved his concern off. “Nah, I’ll just tell Mrs. Lawrenson that I had a bad reaction to the orange juice this morning and I was puking my guts out. She’ll buy it - it happens all the time.” With that, Frank grabbed Gerard’s ratty messenger bag off his shoulder, his bio notebook, and a sketchbook that was precariously hanging on the edge of this locker, about to fall. “Okay. Now give me your hand,” he ordered, imperiously holding out his own.

Gerard complied meekly, and then almost dropped the coffee when Frank dragged him down the hallway toward his classroom. 

Having a fake boyfriend was really not what Gerard had expected. Still, he reflected, as he looked at Frank next to him, tiny and fierce and completely unselfconscious about holding hands with a guy in the middle of the school, it wasn’t a bad unexpected.

+

Apparently, Frank knew a lot more about fake dating than Gerard gave him credit for, because after two days of book-carrying and coffee-supplying and holding hands all over the place (and being hugged and jumped on and shmooshed - Frank and personal space didn’t really mix), everybody knew that Frank and Gerard were going out. Or, well. They _thought_ they knew Frank and Gerard were going out. It made Gerard stand out in a way he wasn’t too comfortable with - the less people looked at him, the better - but it was worth it for the look on Jepha and Bert’s face when they saw Frank walking Gerard into History class, giving him a peck on the cheek before leaving.

“Okay, it’s time to move to part b of the plan,” Frank declared, when they were all sitting in their corner at lunch.

“There’s a plan?” Gerard asked.

“It has parts?” Ray added.

Mikey just rolled his eyes.

“Yes, of course there’s a plan. People have noticed that Gerard and I are holding hands and stuff, but that’s just during _school_. I mean, some of them know I’m Mikey’s best friend - they probably think I’m just doing Gee a favor.”

“But you are,” Gerard said. And he didn’t know why he felt kind of sad, as he said it. 

Frank sighed. “I know, Gee. But Bert can’t know that. If he’s going to believe that we’re really going out, we have to go to the mattresses, okay?”

“Oh, man. I always get nervous when Frank pulls out the Godfather references,” Ray said.

“Shut up, Toro,” Frank told him, shoving him. “Seriously, though. Are you committed to this, Gee, or are you going to crap out just when it gets tough? There’s only two days left until Gabe’s party.”

Gerard took a deep breath. “No, I am committed. What do I have to do?”

“Come on a date with me.”

Mikey snorted.

+

Frank showed up at Gerard’s house at eight o’ clock on the dot. Or, more accurately, he showed up at Gerard’s house at eight, but he walked into Gerard’s basement, where Gerard was waging an epic war against his clothes, at two minutes past eight.

“Hey, Gee Way! Ready?”

Gerard scrambled from underneath the swamp monster his jeans and t-shirts had turned into - and, hey, that was a cool idea for a villain - and tugged on the Bowie t-shirt he’d finally landed on. He figured he couldn’t really go wrong with Bowie. 

“Ready,” he replied. “Um. Where are we going?”

Frank smiled. “You’ll see. C’me on, I got my mom to lend me the car.”

Frank wasn’t a bad driver. Well, no, he was pretty bad and Gerard was totally terrified, but Frank was a little better at driving than Mikey, so he was trying to put things into perspective - at least he wasn’t slammed into the door every time Frank took turns. Still, fear of dying in a car wreck aside, being in a car with Frankie, The Misfits blasting at full volume, was really pretty awesome. 

Eventually, Gerard paid enough attention to their surroundings to figure out where they were going. 

“Frank, are we going to the old cineplex?” he asked, suspecting something but a little afraid to hope.

“We might be,” Frank answered, acting all nonchalant, but Gerard saw how his lips were upturned in the corner, and, oh, he was so onto him.

“Are we going to the old cineplex to watch Lugosi’s Dracula? Their special showing? That sold out forever ago?” 

“Maybe,” Frank replied, but, yeah, he couldn’t hide his shit-eating grin anymore.

“Oh my god, we so are!” Gerard exclaimed, clapping his hands. “ _Frankie!_ How did you even get tickets?”

“I have my ways,” Frank said, winking, and, Jesus. 

Okay. Okay, so maybe Gerard was having totally inappropriate thoughts about his little brother’s best friend. Who was his fake boyfriend. 

Shit.

It only got worse as the night went on, because if Frank had been a good fake boyfriend in school, he was, like, out to win a motherfucking _Oscar_ now. He held Gerard’s hand, and he bought a tub of popcorn big enough to share - all the while telling the guy at the concession stand that he was getting it _for his boyfriend_ \- and when they ran into Bert’s friend Quinn, he leaned super close and whispered in Gerard’s ear and kissed him on the cheek, and, seriously, how was Gerard supposed to handle that?

Dracula was amazing, obviously, and Gerard managed to push down his incumbent freak out over having feelings! For Frankie! by geeking the hell out. He kept pointing things out to Frank, shit he’d read and heard, and instead of shushing him like Ray usually did or ignoring him because he’d heard it three times already like Mikey, Frank totally listened and nodded along and smiled like Gerard was the most interesting person ever.

When they made it back to Gerard’s house, Frank actually walked Gerard to his door. Gerard could tell that it wasn’t even because he was pretending to be all gentlemanly or whatever, he was just carrying on the conversation about the movie and asking Gerard for a drawing because he had this folder where he wanted to keep options for all the tattoos he was going to get, and something silly like getting to Gerard’s place wasn’t going to stop him.

“Oh! We’re here!” he exclaimed when Gerard stopped at his front door, honestly surprised. “Well. I - I hope you had a good time?” he asked, sounding uncertain for the first time since he’d announced his intention to fake date Gerard.

“Frankie. I had the _best_ time. Seriously, just - thank you,” Gerard told him, grabbing one of Frank’s hands and squeezing it for emphasis.

Frank looked down at their joined hands and when he looked up again he was smiling this sweet, soft smile Gerard hadn’t seen before. It was amazing - it made Gerard want to draw him right then and there. 

“Okay. So, uh - I should get home, or my mom’s never going to lend me the car again.”

“Oh, right!” Gerard said, letting go of Frank’s hand. “Good night, Frankie. And thanks again.”

“Good night, Gee.”

When Gerard walked into his room, Mikey was hanging out on the bed, reading an old issue of Batman. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Gerard.

“It was amazing, Mikes. Best date ever,” Gerard sighed, and then caught himself. “I mean. Best fake date ever.”

Mikey shook his head, looking pained, and he went back to Batman. Gerard shrugged and re-commenced the battle against his clothes to try and find his pajamas.

+

Gerard didn’t see too much of Frank on the two days left before Gabe’s party outside of a few minutes in school, because Gerard had a project due for art class - and he wanted to do awesome, considering it was the only class he actually liked - and Frankie had a math test for which his mom was practically tying him down to study.

Still, Frank brought him coffee in the mornings and Gerard doodled him a zombie rebellion against numbers and algebra and tucked it into his backpack - hopefully it would make him smile before the test.

However, all too soon, it was time for Gabe’s party. 

A week ago, Gerard would’ve given anything to fast-forward past it and get the humiliation over and done with, but now, well. He’d always thought Frankie was nice, and cute, and hilarious, but he was his brother’s best friend. Not somebody date-able. Only it turned out he _was_ , he was, like, fucking perfect. Except for the fact that he wasn’t dating Gerard for real.

“Gee, Ray and Frank are waiting outside,” Mikey said, looking up from his phone and smirking when he caught Gerard trying out different poses in front of the mirror.

“Oh. Okay. Okay, I’m ready.”

They traipsed outside and into Ray’s car - Ray had unilaterally decided to be the designated driver because he was scared of Gabe’s party punch. It was a legitimate fear; the last time Ray drank some of Gabe’s punch he woke up inside the kitchen pantry wearing a hula skirt and nothing else. 

Mikey took shotgun, sneaky little shit, and Gerard got into the back, where Frank immediately grabbed his hand and snuggled close like they didn’t have the entire backseat to themselves. Gerard didn’t exactly mind. 

Gabe was waiting at the door to greet whoever came in, and when he caught sight of the four of them, he actually jazz-handed. “Ray Toro! And Ray Toro’s fabulous hair! The Ways of my heart! And scrumptious little Frank Iero!”

“I’m not little!” Frank complained immediately.

Gabe looked down at him with a smile. “You kind of are, Frank Iero. But I like ‘em tiny and fierce.” He raised an eyebrow when he noticed Frank and Gerard holding hands. “What’s this I see? My dearest elder Way and little Frank Iero, canoodling? I approve!”

Gerard rolled his eyes, hoping he wasn’t blushing too much. “Thanks, Gabe. We live for your approval. Can we go in now?”

Gabe waved them in with a smile, waggling his eyebrows at Gerard. Oh, god. Seriously, why were they even friends? 

They went to the kitchen to get some drinks - a Coke for Ray, hopefully non-deadly amounts of party punch for the rest of them - and then they wandered to the living room, where what looked like half of New Jersey was hanging out, some of them grinding against each other in what Gerard guessed was an attempt to masquerade groping for dancing. It wasn’t working too well.

“Ewww. Is that John Cummings feeling up Michelle Hoyt?” Frank asked, staring in a sort of horrified fascination.

“Looks like. It’s sort of like a bulldog making out with one of those stick insects,” Ray replied, scrunching his nose. 

“Well, even bulldogs and stick insects should get a chance to make out,” Gerard shrugged philosophically.

“Sure. Just not in front of my face,” Mikey said.

“Oh, hey - there’s Bert,” Ray said, nudging Gerard with his elbow. “He’s with Jepha and Quinn and - yep. They just saw you, and Bert doesn’t look happy.”

Gerard tried to look without being too obvious, and he saw Bert scowling and Jepha gesturing - it looked like they were having some sort of fight. Quinn was next to them, looking sort of bored and drinking from a red solo cup. 

“Hey, Gee -” 

Gerard turned away from Bert’s drama to catch what Frank was saying, but it was lost in the sudden commotion of Jepha throwing Quinn’s drink at Bert’s face, yelling, “Jesus, Bert, I am so fucking done with your bullshit! Get the fuck over it! People can suck dicks other than yours, okay? It’s not a fucking crime! Jesus, if you were panting after Way so hard then why did you cheat on him?”

With that, Jepha grabbed Quinn and they walked out. Bert stood in the middle of the living room, looking bewildered and blinking beer away from his eyes. 

Some part of Gerard felt really bad, because, well. Bert was an asshat, yeah, but he’d been a friend, and maybe they shouldn’t have tried to be anymore than that. Of course, the other part - the one that had been hurt and humiliated by Bert cheating and then throwing it in Gerard’s face - was feeling pretty fucking vindicated.

He turned to Frank, grinning. “Frankie, did you see that? Oh, god, thank you so much! You were the best fake boyfriend ever!”

“Fake? I mean. Yeah, sure, Gee. Anytime,” Frank replied, and he wasn’t really smiling back, and, shit, was Gerard not supposed to thank him? Was it bad form? “Listen, uh. I need to go to the bathroom, okay? I’ll catch you later.”

Before Gerard could walk after him, ask him what was wrong, Gabe swooped in, grabbed Gerard by the waist, and attempted to waltz him around the living room. Gerard was pretty sure Gabe was way over the recommended level of party punch.

“Gabe, lemme go.”

“First you have to dance with me, elder Way. It’s my not-birthday - dancing with the not-birthday boy is mandatory,” Gabe told him seriously, trying to whirl and accidentally slamming Gerard against the side of a table.

“Ow!”

After another few minutes of humoring Gabe, Gerard finally freed himself and tried to track down Frank. It turned out to be really fucking hard - the people in Gabe’s house had multiplied like tribbles or something, and Gerard had to stop every couple of steps to avoid being groped, high-fived or showered in beer. Finally, he saw Ray’s hair bobbing over the crowd, and he made his way toward him with as much determination as he could. Mikey was next to him, thank god, but Frank was nowhere to be found.

“Ray, Mikes - have you seen Frankie?”

“He’s moping,” Mikey replied.

“Moping? Why?”

“You’re my brother, and I love you, but sometimes you’re an idiot, Gee,” Mikey said.

Gerard was dismayed. “What? What did I do?”

Ray sighed. “Gerard, you told Frank thank you for being your fake boyfriend tonight.”

“Well. Yeah. I mean, that’s what we agreed,” Gerard said, confused. “Was it rude to thank him?”

“Did you consider that maybe he didn’t want it to be fake?” Ray asked him.

And, no, he couldn’t really mean what Gerard thought he meant. There was no way, was there? He glanced at Mikey, and received an eye-roll. So maybe there was a way.

“Really, Mikes?” he asked quietly, still not quite daring to believe.

“Really. He’s had a crush on you forever, Gee,” Mikey replied, equally soft. His lips twitched into a smile at whatever expression he saw on Gerard’s face, and nudged him. “He’s on the porch out back. Go get him. And don’t tell me any details.”

“Ditto,” Ray said, trying to look stern, but he was totally smiling like an idiot. “Well go on!” he exclaimed, shoving Gerard on his way when he still didn’t move.

The porch was fairly dark and thankfully empty. Well, relatively empty - this was still one of Gabe’s parties. Still, Gerard found Frank soon enough, sitting on the left corner, kicking his feet against the wood.

“Hey, Frankie,” he greeted softly.

“Hey, Gee.”

Frank wouldn’t even look at him. Gerard thought for a second of just fleeing, acting like Mikey and Ray hadn’t told him anything, but the idea of letting Frank go, of not being with Frank for real _hurt_. So he took a deep breath, sat down next to Frank, and decided to be brave.

“So, um. I think I was an asshole earlier, even though I didn’t mean to be,” Gerard started. “When I told you thank you for being my fake boyfriend.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean - I am grateful, I really am, Frankie, but.” Gerard stopped, tried to figure out how to phrase it. “But I think maybe you understood that fake is all I wanted us to be, and that’s not true at all.”

Frank finally looked up from his Converse, staring at Gerard with wide eyes. “It’s not?”

“No, Frankie,” Gerard replied, reaching out and taking Frank’s hand, like he had after their date. “I just said that because - well, because I thought that it was over, you know? That you’d helped out your best friend’s big brother because you’re that kind of guy, you’re that nice. I just didn’t think you were interested in dating me for real.”

“Oh, Gerard. Are you kidding me? I’ve had a crush on you since I understood what having a crush _was_ ,” Frank said. “Like, remember that summer three years ago, when I stayed over at yours all the time?” he asked, waiting until Gerard nodded. “I was feeling bummed because my parents had just split up, and you sat next to me one day and gave me your favorite issues of Doom Patrol and a Coke, and told me that I’d get through it, because I was tough and I was awesome, and I believed you. And I just - Gee, I don’t know if I understood it, then, but that was it. You were it for me.”

Gerard squeezed Frank’s hand. “I remember that. You were just so sad - I hated seeing you like that. Really, Frank? Since then?”

Frank nodded. “This whole fake boyfriend thing, it was just the perfect excuse so I could show you that I wasn’t just Mikey’s best friend, you know? That we could be awesome together.”

“We were,” Gerard said. “We _are_. I - I mean, maybe it started because I said something stupid to Bert, but, Frankie, you were the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.” He paused, thinking. “Maybe the only boyfriend I’ve ever had - I’m not sure Bert counts, actually, since it turned out he thought we weren’t doing much besides getting off.”

“So, um. Do you want to be my boyfriend for real, then? For good?” Frank asked.

“Yes, Frankie. Absolutely,” Gerard replied, putting an arm around Frank, dragging him as close as he could. Because he could.

“Awesome,” Frank said, smiling that soft smile that Gerard could see was only for him. “That means I can kiss you properly now.”

And he did. It was pretty fucking perfect.


End file.
